


Just Be

by erykah101



Series: A Series of Improbable Events [37]
Category: The West Wing
Genre: F/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-09
Updated: 2015-10-09
Packaged: 2018-04-25 15:02:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4965373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erykah101/pseuds/erykah101
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Immediately post-ep for Noel. Leo advises Donna on how to help Josh.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Be

Donna stood looking at the closed door. She was holding her hand to her mouth and worrying at her fingers.

She was so focused on staring at it that she didn’t notice Leo until he spoke.

“How’re you holding up, kiddo?”

She looked at him and her face showed her fear and concern like an open book.

“You did the right thing.” He said.

She didn’t look reassured.

“Come on, it’s no use you just standing out here.”

He put an arm around her shoulder and led her towards his office.

Margaret looked up as they walked past. Her face became concerned as she saw the state of Donna and she started to stand. Leo raised a hand to let her know he had it under control.

Leo pointed Donna towards his couch and had her sit. After closing the door, he sat opposite her in his chair.

"What happens now?" She asked.

“We wait.” He told her with a rueful smile.

"Is it PTSD?" She asked, her eyes were intense as they met his.

“It’s up to Doctor Keyworth to decide if there’s a diagnosis, and then that’s between him and Josh...”

Donna gave a bitter laugh and looked away.

“That’s a crock of shit and you know it.” She looked back at him with startled eyes as soon as she’d said it. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be…”

“That’s okay.” He said. His smile was bittersweet. “There’s a lot of things tonight that might be better off glossed over in the morning.”

He looked at her and sighed.

“You want to know if he’ll still have a job in the morning?” He asked.

“Yes.” She said. “He lives for this job, Leo.”

“For better and worse, that’s true.” Leo replied.

“What do we do?” She asked.

\--

_“Whatever he lets us do.”_

Josh said nothing as he let Donna drive him to the hospital.

He could feel her sending him looks occasionally, but he was very glad that she didn’t try to give him any platitudes or ask him any questions.

He couldn’t have answered them anyway. He didn’t know what he was feeling.

It was strange to have a label on it. He’d been trying to ignore it for months, but now it had a label on it.

He wasn’t stupid. He’d known that something was wrong. He’d thought he could just push through it. He’d figured that if he just carried on as normal it’d go away on its own. Of course, if he was really being honest with himself tonight, that was something of a lie too. He could have gone to his own shrink, asked for help, at any time. He’d chosen not to, because he’d known there might be a label at the end of it. He’d really fucked this up.

There were many moments in the emergency room when Josh wished they hadn’t come. They got lucky and didn’t have a long wait, but it wasn’t a great choice of locale for a guy with a problem with sirens. He’d clenched his jaw and carried on pushing through it.

The pain, as they’d cleaned and dressed his hand, had actually helped. The reality of it was something to hold on to.

As they got back into the car, Donna asked if he had any food at home.

“I’m sure there’s something.” He replied absently.

She looked at him sceptically.

“Should we pick some up?” She asked.

“Yeah, probably.” He replied, too tired to make a thing of it.

So they’d driven to a store and he’d followed her around like a zombie as she grabbed some things. He trusted her, so he didn’t really bother looking at what she got.

Back at his apartment, she fussed around his kitchen putting the food away.

He hovered nearby; not sure what to do, not sure what to say.

Tell her, a part of his brain said. Tell her what happened. Tell her what’s wrong.

No don’t, another part said. She’ll look at you with pity and that’s the last thing you want right now. It’s bad enough feeling like you’re going mad. The last thing you want is Donna knowing that.

She finished and turned to face him.

“Okay, all done.” She said with a smile.

He returned it weakly. The muscles of his mouth made the shape without him really feeling it.

She left the room, picked up her coat from the back of the couch and started putting it on.

He followed her.

“Thanks,” He said feebly. “For,” He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “Everything.”

“Anytime.” She turned, settling her coat more firmly around her, and smiled again. This time it was tinged with something he couldn’t quite place.

They looked at each other awkwardly as the moment stretched.

It was broken by the clock in the corner chiming midnight.

Josh turned to look at it, startled, the chimes striking a very literal chord inside him. Feelings welled up, unbidden, in his chest. His heart beat faster. His breathing quickened.

Donna put a hand on his arm and he turned sharply back to her. She stepped into his personal space, disorientating him. It felt like everything was moving in slow motion. She leant forward, kissed his cheek, and the world sped up again.

She drew back immediately, her hand still on his arm, and smiled.

“Merry Christmas Josh.” She said softly.

Now, his brain screamed at him. This is it, do it now. Just reach for her and… and what?

“Night.” She said, as she let go of his arm and started towards the door.

“Donna…” He said, with much more desperation than he’d intended.

She stopped and turned back.

He couldn’t get any words to come out. He didn’t know what he wanted to say. The glass, the music, the clock, the panic, her, the feel of her lips still on his cheek…

“Would you like me to stay?” She asked.

“It’s Christmas.” He blurted. “I’m sure you’ve got somewhere else you’d rather be.”

She smiled.

“I’ll put some coffee on.” She said.

She was already taking her coat off and laying it back down on the couch.

\--

_“You’re gonna have to resist the urge to mother him.”_

He noticed that she was opening a fresh can of coffee. If they hadn’t gone to the store then he’d have been out of it. For some reason that seemed important to note and remember.

Make a joke, he told himself. She’s making you coffee and you haven’t made a joke yet.

“Do you know something I don’t?” He asked hurriedly, trying for sarcasm.  “Am I dying?”

Oh crap, that wasn't a good thing to say!

His laugh at the end sounded so very fake, even to himself.

“Maybe you should take a shower.” She said evenly.

“Huh?” He asked. Surely she wasn’t going to just ignore…

She stopped filling the machine and looked at him.

"A shower.” She said. “Wash the day away.”

“It’s midnight.” He replied.

“It was just an idea.” She turned back to her task.

He watched her thoughtfully.

It wasn’t a bad idea. It’d give him a chance to collect his thoughts, somewhere away from her. He mentally kicked himself. Did he want her to stay or didn’t he?!

“Maybe I will.” He said.

“Okay.” She said.

"I'm gonna take a shower then." He said.

“Good.” She said.

He made to leave but paused to look at her curiously.

“You’re not gonna tell me not to get my bandage wet?” He asked, finding a small smile from somewhere.

“I assumed you were adult enough to work that out on your own.” She replied, giving a twisted smile but not looking at him.

He watched her for a while longer. She carried on; reaching for mugs from the cupboard now. Her top pulled up as she did so, revealing a small band of bare skin.

“Okay, then.” He said. “I’m gonna…”

She turned and smiled at him.

“Okay.” He said again, and left.

\--

_“But make him feel safe.”_

Josh came out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his hips. He looked warily down the hallway, towards the living room, to make sure Donna wasn’t looking this way. He could hear her moving around out there but she wasn’t in sight.

Swiftly he crossed to the bedroom and closed the door.

He knew he was being a bit nutty about this. She’d seen a lot of more of him than was on display here when she’d been helping him after the surgery, but that was different. Even if he _was_ losing his mind, he wasn’t an invalid anymore.

He turned away from the closed door and immediately frowned. The top sheets and pillows were missing from the bed.

He opened his mouth to yell her name, but caught himself - remembering that he didn’t want her coming back here right now - and put his hand over his mouth to be sure nothing came out.

Then he grabbed the pyjamas she’d laid out, quickly dropped the towel and put them on.

When he emerged a few minutes later into the living room, Donna was no where to be seen. He looked round into the kitchen and found it was also empty.

He glanced at the clock and noticed that the hands weren’t moving. A couple of batteries were sitting on the table next to it. She was far too observant.

He turned back to the room and noticed that the cushions were missing from the couch and that there was a blanket over the dining table.

“Donna?” He called, warily.

Her head popped out from under the blanket.

“Yes?” She asked casually.

He stared at her with an expression that screamed ‘what the hell?’.

She simply smiled.

“It’s comfy in here. You should join me.” She said, and disappeared back inside.

He stared at the table for a moment longer, before going over.

“Er, Donna? Why are you under my table?”

“Just shut up and get in here.” She ordered, her voice muffled on account of being under a blanket, under a table.

He let out a short, bemused laugh.

With slight difficulty - his back was still giving him some trouble - he knelt down, lifted the edge of the blanket and peered inside.

Donna smiled at him and held out one of the two mugs of coffee she was holding.

She was sitting on a make-shift bed of couch cushions and bed pillows, wearing one of his t-shirts and tucked in under his sheets.

“What’s going on right now?” He asked, confused. Something occurred to him. “Have you… built a fort?”

She smiled more broadly and lowered the coffee.

“You could conceivably say that I’ve built a fort.” She agreed.

He shook his head as he crawled inside next to her, but he was smiling as he did it.

" _Why_ have you built a fort?" He asked as he settled in under the covers, discovering as he did so that she was wearing a pair of his tracksuit pants.

She offered the mug again and he took it. She reached behind her and brought out a bowl of popcorn, which she settled on her lap. His eyes flicked to the bowl and back up again to meet her eyes. He looked amused now.

“It seemed like a thing to do.” She replied, matter of fact.

“It did?” He asked and took a drink from the mug.

"Why not." She shrugged and put a handful of popcorn into her mouth.

“Why not, she says!” He laughed.

It felt really good to laugh.

\--

_“Listen if he wants to tell you, but don’t force it.”_

Josh lay on his back and stared at the underside of his dining table.

It was surprisingly comfortable, and oddly comforting. The world had shrunk to this enclosed, darkened space with Donna lying next to him, and somehow that was soothing to every one of his frayed nerves.

He had no idea what time it was, and didn’t much care.

"So what's a Moss family Christmas like?" He asked, turning his head to look at her.

Donna was staring at the ‘ceiling’ and didn’t look at him, but she smiled.

“Warm.” She said. “Bright.” She said. “And noisy.” She turned her head to smile at him.

“Plenty of Christmas cheer?” He smiled back lazily.

“We can deck the halls with the best of them.” She said.

She tilted her head back to the ceiling, closed her eyes and sighed.

Josh watched her.

"You miss them." He said.

“Yes.” She replied. “But I’m exactly where I want to be.”

His breath caught in his throat as she turned her head back to look at him.

“Working at the White House.” She finished.

He stamped down on the sudden feeling of disappointment. He turned his head back to the ceiling.

“Best workplace in the world.” He said, wincing internally at having resorted to such a platitude.

“Yeah.” She agreed softly.

There was something, a tone, in her voice but he didn’t dare look back at her. He was sure he was reading in something that wasn’t really there.

“More popcorn?” She asked.

He smiled and looked back at her.

“No thanks.” He said.

She smiled, and let her head fall back again. He watched her for a moment. She was still smiling and she looked so beautiful in the dim light. He closed his eyes and let his head fall back too.

They lay there in silence but he was surprised to find that it wasn’t uncomfortable. So much of their relationship involved talking that this quiet moment felt like it should be uncomfortable, but it just wasn’t.

“I didn’t cut my hand on a glass.” He said. “I put my fist through a window.”

She didn’t say anything. He fancied that he could feel her looking at him but he knew that he couldn’t do this if he was looking at her.

“I have PTSD.” He said, feeling as if he was properly owning it for the first time.

She still didn’t say anything but he felt her hand reach out and take his. He opened his eyes and turned to look at her, terrified of the pity he was expecting to see there.

But there was no pity in the way she was looking at him.

\--

_“You don’t need to do anything dramatic. Let him, just be, for a while.”_

“Do you think a pair of boxing gloves would come in under the gift limit?” She asked dryly.

It was the relief more than the joke that made him burst out laughing. He laughed hard, letting his head fall back with it.

“I’m serious. I think it’s a sensible precaution.” She persisted, although she squeezed his hand more tightly. “It’s gonna be weird when you have to go to the Hill, but frankly, it might turn out helpful for so many meetings.”

He kept laughing and, without even thinking about what he was doing, he curled up against her side, bringing their joined hands to rest up against his lips as he laughed.

She dropped the act and let out a small laugh in response to his ongoing laughter.

He finally stopped, but stayed where he was. He felt her turn against him and he determinedly ignored where his head had ended up. This moment wasn’t about that. It was about comfort. He felt her other hand start stroking his hair. He sighed and closed his eyes.

He was so tired.

“Go to sleep now Josh.” She said softly.

As he did as he was told and drifted off towards sleep, he was aware that her hand was still stroking his hair. He pursed his lips against her hand so lightly that it could only barely be called a kiss. Then he slept.

_\--_

“And his job?” Donna asked.

“As long as I have a job, he has a job.” Leo replied. He smiled at her. “You’ve already done the right thing for him,” He reached forward and put his hands over hers. “You’ll know exactly what to do.”  

**Author's Note:**

> The stories in the series should really be read in the order that they’re numbered because them being in the wrong chronological order is deliberate. However, if you want to keep the chronology straight, here’s the order. [Series Chronology](http://globaldominationenterprises.com/story_westwing_chronology.asp)


End file.
